“Listen to a story,” Mor said slowly, “and tell me what you think.” His gaze was fastened to Karede as if by tacks, studying, weighing, evaluating as though Karede were on the block at sale. “This came to us in the last few days.” By us, he meant the Seekers. “It began among the local people, as near as we can tell, though we have not yet found the original source. Supposedly, a girl with a Seandar accent has been extorting gold and jewelry from mer?chants here in Ebou Dar. The title Daughter of the Nine Moons was mentioned.” He grimaced with disgust, and for a moment, his fingertips turned white, they were pressing against each other so hard. “None of the locals seem to understand what that title means, but the description of the girl is remarkably precise. Remarkably accurate. And no one can recall hearing this rumor before the night after . . . the night after Tylin’s murder was dis?covered,” he finished, choosing the least unpleasant event to fix the time.
“A Seandar accent,” Karede said in a flat voice, and Mor nod?ded. “This rumor has passed to our own people.” That was not a question, but Mor nodded again. A Seandar accent and an accurate description, two things no local could invent. Someone was play?ing a very dangerous game. Dangerous for themselves, and for the Empire. “How does theTarasinPalacetake recent events?” There would be Listeners among the servants, likely among even the Ebou Dari servants by now, and what the Listeners heard soon passed to the Seekers.
Mor understood the question, of course. There was no need to mention what should not be mentioned. He replied in an indiffer?ent tone. “The High Lady Tuon’s entourage carries on as though nothing has happened, except that Anath, her Truth Speaker, has taken to seclusion, but I am told that is not unusual for her. Suroth herself is even more distraught in private than in public. She sleeps poorly, snaps at her favorites, and has her property beaten over tri?fles. She ordered the death of one Seeker each day until matters are rectified, and only rescinded the order this morning, when she real?ized she might run out of Seekers before she ran out of days.” His shoulders moved in a small shrug, perhaps to indicate this was all in a day for Seekers, perhaps in relief at a near escape. “It’s under?standable. If she is called to account, she will pray for the Death of Ten Thousand Tears. The other Blood who know what has happened are trying to grow eyes in the backs of their heads. A few have even quietly made funeral arrangements, to cover any eventu?ality.”
Karede wanted a clearer look at the man’s face. He was inured to insult - that was part of the training - but this. . . . Pushing back his chair, he stood and sat at the edge of the writing table. Mor stared at him unblinking, tensed to defend against an attack, and Karede drew a deep breath to still his anger. “Why did you come to me if you believe the Deathwatch Guards are implicated in this?” The effort of keeping his voice level almost strangled him. Since the first Deathwatch Guards swore on the corpse of Luthair Paendrag to defend his son, there had never been treason among the Guards! Never!
Mor relaxed by increments as he realized that Karede did not intend to kill him, at least not right then, but there was a haze of sweat on his forehead. “I have heard it said a Deathwatch Guard can see a butterfly’s breath. Do you have anything to drink?”
Karede gestured curtly to the brick hearth, where a silver cup and pitcher sat near the flames, to keep warm. They had been there, untouched, since Ajimbura brought them when Karede awoke. “The wine may be cool by now, but be free of it. And when your throat is wet, you will answer my question. Either you suspect Guardsmen, or you wish to play me in some game of your own, and by my eyes, I will know which, and why.”
The fellow sidled to the hearth, watching him from the corner of his eye, but as Mor bent for the pitcher, he frowned and then gave a small start. What appeared to be a silver-rimmed bowl with a ram’s-horn-patterned silver base sat beside the cup. Light of heaven, Ajimbura had been told often enough to keep that thing out of sight! There was no doubt that Mor recognized it for what it was.
The man considered treason possible for the Guards? “Pour for me as well, if you will.”
Mor blinked, showing a faint consternation - he held the only obvious cup - and then a light of understanding appeared in his eyes. An uneasy light. He filled the bowl, too, a trifle unsteadily, and wiped his hand on his coat before taking it up. Every man had his limits, even a Seeker, and a man pushed to them was especially dangerous, but he was also off balance.
Accepting the skull-cup with both hands, Karede raised it high and lowered his head. “To the Empress, may she live forever in honor and glory. Death and shame to her enemies.”
“To the Empress, may she live foreverin honor and glory,” Mor echoed, bowing his head and lifting his cup. “Death and shame to her enemies.”
Putting Ajimbura’s cup to his lips, Karede was aware of the other man watching him drink. The wine was indeed cool, the spices bitter, and there was a faint, acrid hint of silver polish; he told himself the taste of dead man’s dust was his imagination.
Mor dashed off half his own wine in hurried gulps, then stared at his cup, seemed to realize what he had done, and made a visible effort to regain control of himself. “Furyk Karede,” he said briskly. “Born forty-two years ago to weavers, the property of one Jalid Magonine, a craftsman in Ancarid. Chosen at fifteen for training in the Deathwatch Guards. Cited twice for heroism and mentioned in dispatches three times, then, as a seven-year veteran, named to the bodyguard of the High Lady Tuon upon her birth.” That had not been her name then, of course, but mentioning her birth-name would have been an insult. “That same year, as one of three sur?vivors of the first known attempt on her life, chosen for training as an officer. Service during the Muyami Uprising and the Jianmin Incident, more citations for heroism, more mentions in dispatches, and assignment back to the High Lady’s bodyguard just before her first true-name day.” Mor peered into his wine, then looked up suddenly. “At your request. Unusual, that. The following year, you took three serious wounds shielding her with your body against another set of assassins. She gave you her most precious possession, a doll. After more distinguished service, with further citations and mentions, you were selected for the bodyguard of the Empress her?self, may she live forever, and served there until named to accom?pany the High Lord Turak to these lands with theHailene. Times change, and men change, but before going to guard the throne, you made two other requests for assignment to the High Lady Tuon’s bodyguard.Most unusual. And you kept the doll until it was destroyed in the Great Fire of Sohima, a matter often years.”
Not for the first time, Karede was glad of the training that allowed him to maintain a smooth face no matter what. Careless expressions gave away too much to an opponent. He remembered the face of the small girl who had laid that doll on his litter. He could hear her still.You have protected my life, so you must take Emela to watch over you in turn, she said.She can’t really protect you, of course; she’s only a doll. But keep her to remind you that I will always hear if you speak my name. If I’m still alive, of course.
“My honor is loyalty,” he said, setting Ajimbura’s cup on the writing table carefully, so as not to slop wine onto his papers. However often the fellow polished the silver, Karede did not think he bothered to wash the thing. “Loyalty to the throne. Why did you come to me?”
Mor moved slightly, so the armchair was between them. No doubt he thought he was standing casually, but he was clearly ready to throw the winecup. He had a knife under his coat in the small of his back, and probably at least one other. “Three requests to join the High Lady Tuon’s bodyguard. And you kept the doll.”
“That much, I understand,” Karede told him dryly. The Guards were not supposed to form attachments to those they were sent to guard. The Deathwatch Guard served only the Crystal Throne, servedwhoever succeeded to the throne, with a whole heart and a whole faith. But he remembered that serious child’s face, already aware she might not live to do her duty yet trying to do it anyway, and he had kept the doll. “But there’s more to it than rumor of a girl, isn’t there?”
“A butterfly’s breath,” the fellow murmured. “It is a pleasure to talk to someone who sees deeply. On the night that Tylin was mur?dered, twodamane were taken from theTarasinPalacekennels. Both were formerly Aes Sedai. Do you not find the coincidence too much?”
“I find any coincidence suspect, Almurat. But what has that to do with rumors and . . . other matters?”
“This web is more tangled than you imagine. Several others left the palace that night, among them a young man who was appar?ently Tylin’s pet, four men who were certainly soldiers, and an older man, one Thorn Merrilin, or so he called himself, who was supposedly a servant, but who displayed much more education than would be expected. At one time or another, they were all seen with Aes Sedai who were in the city before the Empire reclaimed it.” Intent, the Seeker leaned forward slightly over the back of the armchair. “Perhaps Tylin was not murdered because she swore fealty, but because she had learned of things that were dangerous.She might have been careless in what she revealed to the boy on the pillows, and he carried word to Merrilin. We can call him that until we learn a better name. The more I learn of that one, the more intriguing he is: knowledgeable of the world, well-spoken, at ease with nobles and crowns. A courtier, in fact, if you didn’t know he was a servant. If theWhiteTowerhad certain plans in Ebou Dar, they might send such a man
